


Hungry Heart

by southsidesister



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Romance, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidesister/pseuds/southsidesister
Summary: "By now, the mixture of dried sweat and whipped cream has turned into a glue-like hindrance, and Harvey jumps off the bed, pulling her with him in the direction of the bathroom where he has her pressed up against the glass in seconds." - My take on The Other Time.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Hungry Heart

···

**Hungry Heart**

°•.•°

Deeper than intended, her well-manicured fingernails dig into the skin of his back, and she fleetingly thinks she might draw blood even though there's nothing she can do to stop herself. Donna's body is about to succumb to Harvey's relentless assault, his thick length hitting her in all the right places, filling her to the brim with pleasure. So, she tries to hold on in a futile effort to maintain control when not a minute later she cries out as everything goes dark, a million stars appear behind closed eyes, and she forgets who or where she is and whoever else is with her.

The sensation doesn't last long enough because his grunts signal his own release, and with it she lands back in her body, heaving, sweating, tingling all over as a smile creeps onto her lips while she coaxes him to his own peak with gentle words and sweet nothings whispered into the darkness.

He collapses on top of her, a thin layer of moisture covering his skin from the Olympian execution of his performance.

The weightless heap of man stays unmoving for several moments, so she takes the opportunity to run her fingers through his hair, feeling his breath expel against her neck.

"So…" she starts, requesting his attention. "How much better than you thought I was gonna be, was I?"

No sooner than she finishes talking does she feel his body halt. His lips curve in what she thinks is a smile, then settle on her pulse point, sucking gently. Slowly, he pushes himself up, the sugary layer on both their surfaces coming unglued in the process—the empty bottle of whipped cream lying forgotten on the floor.

A smirk covers his face as Harvey hovers over her, peering down, wondering if he's ever met a woman he would describe as 'cocky'. He hasn't. Then again, he has never encountered _anyone_ quite like her before—someone who challenges him on _every_ front—and he chuckles in reply. "You assume I thought you were gonna be good."

"Please. You haven't been chasing me for over a year because you thought sex with me would be average."

He laughs out loud at her assertion. "I haven't been chasing you."

"Could've fooled me," she teases, hoping he'll give her an opening to start a conversation she's dying to have now that they are no longer boss and secretary.

As he rolls onto his back and removes the condom, his dick still semi-hard as it lands on his thigh, he reverts to her initial question, and as she tucks herself into his side, he confesses, "You are anything but average," then plants a validating kiss on her forehead.

Saying she just blew his mind would be saying too much, so with one hand behind his head, he closes his eyes and enjoys the peaceful aftermath of their synchronized climaxes, gathering his strength for round two.

The ease with which his lips brush over her skin makes Donna think she could get used to this; however, all around her heart alarm bells ring, ordering her to tread carefully. "You were pretty amazing yourself," she offers in return, knowing his ego doesn't need any encouraging, but he deserves the praise and she isn't above giving credit where it's due. Especially since he's already one of the best she's ever had—when the night is over she'll think, perhaps even _the_ best. Yet he didn't take the bait, and a pang of disappointment hits her in the chest, quickly shoved aside by her rational mind. She _knew_ who she was getting in bed with. Harvey Specter doesn't date. So, she shouldn't be dismayed he doesn't want to date _her_. Sadly, the delusion she might have been different still stings like an accidental run-in with a cactus.

Next to her, Harvey hums in appreciation.

"Told you you'd fall for me," he teases, telling himself he doesn't care whether she has or hasn't. But instead of indifference, he finds a strange disconnect between his heart and his brain he can't place and therefore ignores.

No matter what he does, be it baseball, practicing law, or sex, he always gives his all—and then some—so her comment comes as no surprise, nor is the acclaim unusual for him to hear. Yet, this time, the compliment registers differently, and he's keenly aware the power of her approval triples the impact.

Every day since she moved to his desk, she has demanded he be a better man, nudging him in the right direction while molding him into being one—something he secretly loves most about her. The bar she sets for herself and others is sky high, so to know he meets her standards makes his insides twirl.

It's also why lying naked next to her now is so damn confusing.

Whenever he set his sights on a girl, he would have them in bed the same night. In law school, he'd perhaps spend a few days gaining someone's attention, but he'd lose interest the minute they caved. On the rare occasion they denied him altogether, he let it go, and never gave the rejection a second thought.

But, once again, Donna is different.

From the moment they met, he tried to bed her, and she resisted him without fail. As time went by, the urge to conquer her never diminished, although at times he wondered if blurring those lines would be wise. Especially since he was purely after sex. But they were both adults. Surely, they could have both? A great working relationship _and_ an amazing sexual relationship. Unfortunately, by now he'd learned the hard way that sex was different for women. Where men were able to isolate the act from the emotion, women often had difficulty separating the two. Even the ones that told him they were fine with just hooking up ended up blowing up his phone. Donna herself had to explain to him more than once why Ms. Cocktail Waitress wouldn't stop calling after he had spent a few consecutive nights in her bed.

A relationship was never—and still isn't—on his list. He is too young to settle down, too focused on his career, and he certainly doesn't need anybody distracting him from his goal of one day having a firm bear his name. He is good-looking, in the prime of his life, and in it for the fun. Period. Besides, after the shit his mother pulled, he is convinced women and love don't mix, anyway.

However, the redhead, whose bed he's currently occupying, trails a lazy finger over his chiseled—and sticky—chest, and a distant hum vibrates around the edges of his awareness.

Romantic love might be unfamiliar, but he knows what _love_ is. He loves his dad, and even his dumbass brother is someone he would kill for. For a brief moment, he realizes Donna can be added to that list, and the epiphany is something new entirely. No woman has ever pierced the boys-only club. At one point in his life, he would have considered adding Scottie, but he always knew she couldn't be trusted, causing him to keep his guard up.

Not Donna, though. He trusts her, counts on her advice and direction without question. Above all, he never had to explain himself. She just _gets_ him, and that's something far more valuable than anything he's ever experienced before, with anyone. And now she's naked next to him, and it's a fresh scenario that both thrills and terrifies him to his core.

But before he has time to analyze his feelings, her soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Unable to hide her amusement, Donna chuckles. "It's gonna take more than great sex to win me over, Mr. Specter."

He doesn't respond, letting her statement fuel his conviction she isn't interested in something _more_ either while also choosing to believe there's no hidden challenge behind the words he's supposed to pick up on.

The silence stretches as they lie in the darkness for a few moments more.

"You really turned in the toxicology report?" she finally whispers.

A proud grin colors his face, and he waits for her to meet his eyes. "I did."

The smile she shoots him in return lightens up his soul, making him feel as tall as Kobe on stilts.

"You're a good man, Harvey," she says before resting her head on his chest, and he wastes no time combing through the long strands of auburn falling over her shoulder.

"Thanks," he replies, and it's as much a reaction to her compliment as it is gratitude for her part in his decision to go against Dennis' orders. So, he softly presses his lips to hear hair while his thoughts drift off anew. They are colleagues no more, and the idea she won't be by his side going forward triggers a surge of panic to course through his body.

The flicker of tension in his muscles is impossible to miss, and she looks up at him, catching the tail-end of a frown before the expression dissolves into nothingness. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he claims, confident she'll believe him. But when she sits up facing him—legs crossed, fingers toying with the dusting of hair below his navel—he realizes she doesn't.

"So, you weren't thinking about how we don't work together anymore?" she asks carefully, glancing at him with a hint of uncertainty behind those hazel eyes. "Because I was."

"You were?"

"Have you thought about what you're gonna do now?" She doesn't want to assume anything, but deep down she hopes this won't be the end of their relationship, knowing full well his stance on love and her chances of winning his heart being zero—no matter how much she wishes she were different from all his other victories.

"I have a few aces up my sleeve," he smirks, then forces himself up. The last thing he wants is to think about a future without her—not when she's naked and her touch is making him hard. In this moment, he needs to have her again, and the notion that he _can_ launches him forward, tangling his fingers in her hair to draw her closer.

When his lips cover her mouth, she mumbles against them he isn't wearing sleeves, and they tumble onto the mattress into a pile of arms and legs, kissing and laughing—the reality outside these walls held off for a while longer.

By now, the mixture of dried sweat and whipped cream has turned into a glue-like hindrance, and Harvey jumps off the bed, pulling her with him in the direction of the bathroom where he has her pressed up against the glass in seconds as warm water attempts to cleanse them from their sugary coatings. But water alone isn't enough, so he reaches for the bar of soap and rubs it in his hands while his tongue invades her mouth and he moans hungrily.

Donna glories in the way this man takes charge as she stands trapped between his legs, his magnificent body gentle yet demanding while she anchors herself by digging her fingertips into his waist.

Suds-covered palms move apart from her collarbones to her shoulders, down her arms and up again to journey south down her chest where his big hands cup her full breasts, and he lingers, kneading them while pinching the pink peaks until they harden under his touch.

Their tongues duel in a similar rhythm, her soft whimpers reverberating through Harvey's entire body. And when she reaches for his throbbing erection, he welcomes the contact with a buck of his hips against her belly.

To finish his job, he reluctantly withdraws. Because his broad frame prevents the water from rinsing away the soap, he grabs the shower head, releasing the nozzle from its holder before stepping back and finishing the task at hand. Zigzagging the spray down her breathless body, their eyes meet, and a devilish grin appears on his lips as he holds the hose pointed between her legs. "Open."

Donna willingly accepts the dare, and when the fountain hits her core, she inhales sharply, steadying herself by clutching his biceps.

Harvey watches the pleasure spread over her face. But as much as he appreciates the water pressure driving her crazy, he enjoys it twice as much when he is the one administering the euphoria and without warning, he steps back and aims the spray at his well-defined torso, reaching for the soap to give himself a good scrub while Donna stares at him with a small pout of her lip—a lip she soon bites as her eyes turn darker with lust, watching him lather himself.

So, he indulges her, giving his hardening shaft a few languid strokes, resulting in her swallowing hard as she gawks, wide-eyed. However, not touching her becomes unbearable, and in one fluid motion, he returns the nozzle and drives her back up against the damp glass, kissing her deeply.

The desire to be inside of her burns stronger than the heat of a million suns, and he turns off the water. No matter how desperately he wants to, he won't have sex without protection, so the faster they get to her bedroom, the better.

Toweling off in a half-assed attempt leaves their skins still wet when they land into bed a moment later. Donna reaches for her nightstand to retrieve another condom which he rolls on with agile fingers before he helps her guide his now aching arousal in, and when he thrusts forward, the sound she makes is like a choir of angels singing. So, he does it again, feeling himself grow even harder as she absorbs him whole—their union perfect in every way.

Three positions later, while laying on their sides, he fucks her from behind and not being sticky turns out to be a lot more enjoyable when—without giving himself a chest wax—he can bring his lips to her ear to trace his tongue over the ridges, something he learned makes her crazy. As intended, he drives her over the edge with hardly any effort at all. But the satisfaction soon dissolves as his own orgasm rapidly approaches, and he launches himself on his knees, just in time to rip off the condom and spill all over the porcelain skin of her belly while her fingernails rake over his abs.

He throws his head back as he climaxes, and when the ripples of pleasure subside and he glances down at her—content and sated, a tender glow emanating from her luscious body beneath him—he thinks she's breathtakingly beautiful.

"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," she says, pulling him to her, and he realizes he must have said the words out loud as he settles beside her, draping an arm over her chest, their legs entwining.

Never one to make false promises, his first instinct is to crack a joke and hope she understands he doesn't mean anything by it. But his instincts fail him tonight as the urge to downplay his statement is nowhere to be found. More importantly, he _wants_ her to know but fails to understand why. He's too tired to examine his faulty psyche, anyway, so he sidesteps the thought as he nuzzles her neck, the scent of her soap teasing his nose. "Hmm, smell good, too."

Donna merely smiles, thinking he's an idiot while reaching for some tissues on her nightstand which soon join his condom on the floor, something she'll deal with in the morning. Right now, she's too busy savoring the moment and their closeness as she feathers her fingertips from his shoulder to his elbow and back up again until the arm grows heavier and his breathing evens out slowly. The afterglow turns into reality and she asks a little confused, "Are you staying?" He hardly ever did. She knows that much from what he's told her. Did that mean—

His grip then tightens as he purrs a sleepy, "That okay?"

She has trouble containing her smile, unable to see his face. "Yeah, that's okay," she whispers. It's more than okay. She'll wake up next to him tomorrow, and maybe she can broach the subject over coffee and pancakes—ask him if he ever considered _them._ Because until now, she always prevented her imagination from running wild, but with him in her arms—or her in his—what she wants is becoming clearer with each warm breath he releases against her skin.

Sleep is elusive, and she knows musing about a scenario where they fall asleep in each other's arms every night from now on, won't help her mind from shutting off. But his body wrapped around her—as if he's afraid she'll run—makes her hunger for exactly that.

When sleep eventually does find her, it never fully consumes her, far too aware of the man sleeping next to her. So, when Harvey stirs sometime in the early hours, she feels his every move—his every inch pressing into her behind, and she pushes back on instinct, grinding her butt cheeks into his groin.

It's all the incentive he needs to slide on top of her again, still half-asleep himself but aroused the minute he transitioned from dreaming to being in her bed, finding her body blindly in the darkness.

He makes fast work of another condom and slips inside her already wet core, ready and waiting for him, and he's astonished anew at how well they match.

Thrusting deep and determined, soon enough they both moan in delight as her fingers dig into his backside once again, their minds more than a little hazy. But then his name leaves her lips, and it knocks the wind out of him. So, he pounds more vigorously until her warm walls convulsing around him topple him over the edge with her.

Almost immediately, Donna appreciates the orgasmic high being replaced by true exhaustion, and as his body collapses beside her, she drapes herself over him, like he's her new favorite pillow, and she wonders if she's dreaming when she hears him say, "You're amazing."

Groggy and disoriented, she murmurs, "What time is it?"

Glancing at the alarm, he replies, "Four-forty-five. Go back to sleep," he adds, and feels her drift off a few moments later.

Harvey is wide awake, though, and has a sudden urge to flee.

For so long, he wanted her, and now he's had her. But unlike his other conquests, the longing hasn't faded, his thirst has not been quenched, and he wonders if she could be the one he'd break his no-dating rule for. The pondering unsettles him, especially because Donna's never given him any reason to think she wants to be with him. Besides, a relationship would never work. Although, why, he isn't sure. He just _knows._ He'd probably fuck it up somehow and lose her forever. Only an idiot would risk that.

Gently, he tries to pry himself out of her embrace, and he succeeds until he's almost out of reach, but her sleepy murmur thunders through his resolve as her fingers clutch his wrist.

"Don't leave."

Even in a semi-conscious state, she sees right through him, and he closes his eyes in shame, hating what he's about to do and lies, "I'll be right back."

She must have believed him, because she lets go of his arm and snuggles into the sheets peacefully.

There's no excusing his behavior, and he'll apologize if he has to. Still, as quietly as possible, he gathers his clothes and picks up the debris from their lovemaking, glancing over her sleeping form from the doorway one last time before discarding the waste in the bin in the bathroom and dressing like the house is on fire.

He doesn't look at his reflection but instead hangs his head as he stalks out of her apartment.

The next morning, Donna wakes in an otherwise empty bed. His scent consumes her as it teases her senses, and she revels in a flood of memories submerging her without warning. Her sore body brims with adulation in response, and she lets herself enjoy the bliss for a moment longer before she allows that nagging sense something is wrong access to her consciousness.

Quickly scanning her room, she notices all his clothes are gone, and she falls back into the pillows as reality crushes her joy, leaving her feeling hollow and alone yet not entirely surprised.

Before she wallows in the rejection she tells herself is irrational and therefore unfounded, she thinks she will give him three days before she'll reach out. They may not be working together anymore, and they may have just complicated things, but their friendship is not something she wants to lose, no matter what the future holds for them. She'll file last night as one to remember, forcing herself to let go of the hope she changed her former boss' mind about dating. Until he tells her otherwise.

He calls her two days later, and her heart leaps in her throat when he says he _has_ to see her.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been toying with the idea to write 'The other time', because it's such a fun moment to explore. Must say, delving into oblivious Harvey was a challenge, but I hope I did it justice. I'd love to hear your thoughts. As always, a big thank you to my beta's: Nina, Cassie and Elle! I love you girls!
> 
> Follow me on Insta and Twitter as darvey__love.


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